


Just Call Me Angel In The Morning, or, How Do You Talk To An Angel?

by melanie1982



Category: New Kids On The Block, Supernatural
Genre: Angel!kink, Crossover, Fiction, Grace - Freeform, Love, M/M, Smut, Wings!, characterdeath, idon'tknowthesepeopleinreallife, imakenomoneyfromthis, m/m - Freeform, ridic, thismayfailhorribly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all knew it was there, but the timing was always wrong. What happens when you run out of time - when the nebulous promise of 'someday' is wrested from your grip?<br/>Is there any force in the universe strong enough to bring the one you love back from death and into your arms where they've always belonged?</p><p>This story is fiction. I don't know the characters in real life. I make no money from this story.<br/>SPN characters belong to their creators.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calls After 3 a.m. Are Rarely Good News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins with a phone-call

The phone rang at 3:16 in the morning. Jon was inclined to ignore it; how had he forgotten to turn down the ringer volume? In his experience, good news could wait til the sun was up and he had some coffee in him, and that was doubly true of bad news. If anything was wrong, it will still be wrong after dawn, and he could deal with it better on a full night's sleep.

Turning the ringer all the way down, he rolled over - and then the HOUSE phone started. A moment later, his laptop started trilling - he'd forgotten to log out of Skype. NOW he was awake. Picking up his cell phone, he saw Jordan had been trying to get ahold of him, so he called him back.

"What's wrong? Is it Mom?"

Jordan sounded like he was hyperventilating. "It's not Mom. Jon.. You need to get here, now." Jordan, having managed those phrases, dissolved into incoherency.

'Here'? As in, Boston? "What's goin' on? Take a breath and calm down; you're, you're not makin' sense." Jon was sitting upright, hand gripping the sheet into a ball within his fist, knuckles blanching. Jordan was prone to anxiety, though less severe than Jon's, but Jon hadn't heard his brother this panicked since.. well, he couldn't remember. The thought terrified him. Jon remembered the others were supposed to be meeting up, working on a project together - 

Jordan was crying now. CRYING. "Jon.. Just come to the hospital. Joey's already here; Danny's on his way. Please - I need you now."

Jon was losing his patience. "Jordan, WHAT IS GOING ON?"

Jordan managed to choke out a name, and Jon's heart shattered. "It's Donnie."

Jon closed his eyes, pausing, hoping that when he opened them again, this would all be a horrible nightmare. His dream came back to him in pieces: Donnie was flying, only, it looked.. wrong. It looked more like.. like.. falling.

"Which hospital?" It was three blocks from Jon; if Donnie had been transferred there, it must be bad, beyond New Jersey's capabilities. Jon stayed on the phone with Jordan, hearing voices in the background. As he slipped on his shoes, the background voices launched into yelling, all the worst terms you'd ever script into a medical drama, and Jon grabbed his keys, forgetting a jacket, not caring he was in pj's. Jon, the man who hated exercise, ran, without stopping. When he reached the emergency entrance of the hospital, he hung up the phone and vomited from a combination of exertion and dread. Jon found himself praying hard, appealing to any and all beings who might hear and care. He promised to give to charity, to build a church or other place of worship, to .. heck, shave off all of his hair and wear a robe for the rest of his life, playing tambourine at airports, if only the powers that be would let his friend pull through.

"Please. Somebody - ANYbody - I need you to hear me.. Please save his life. You can't take him from this world; you can't take him from - " He was about to say 'me,' but he didn't have the right to claim Donnie that way. Prayers weren't supposed to be selfish, were they? He had a wife, a family; Jon should be begging on their behalf - not his own. Great. The burden of never telling Donnie how he felt, of watching him walk down the aisle with another, now mixed with the guilt of wanting someone he could never have. "Please.. this is so selfish, but please - let me have one more chance to tell him. I never told him.."

Jon explained to the woman working at the intake desk who he was and who he was there to see, and he didn't like the look on her face. Rushing around the corner, he ran full-force into a man walking with his head down, the hood of his grey sweatshirt obscuring his face. It was the same shade of grey as Donnie's favorite sleep shirt, dazing Jon for a moment. The physical contact with the man sent a jolt of heat into Jon's body, and he recoiled, shaking it off, too upset to waste time on apologizing to a stranger. Moving past the man, he found Jordan in the hallway, doubled over in a chair and sobbing uncontrollably. Joey was rubbing Jordan's back in circles, tears streaming down his face. Danny was talking to the doctor, his hand rubbing over his mouth over and over as if he wanted to stop the words emerging from it. Jon took in the scene, but he held on to the faintest glimmer of hope that Donnie was in emergency surgery, that that was why they were all so upset.. He knew, and yet he couldn't absorb it. 

As the hospital chaplain came into view, all hope died. Jon put one foot in front of the other, but he no longer felt the floor beneath him, no longer noticed the buzz or the glare of the fluorescent lights or the people walking past unaware of their loss. Death and suffering soaked every inch of this place, coated the walls, polished the floors; why should anyone notice one more scene of desperate, broken loved ones as their world was ripped away from them? As the doctor wound down his talk with Danny, the chaplain approached, gently asking Joey if he was family.

"We're all family," Jon said, shocked by the sound of his own voice. The man had kind eyes; he seemed younger than any of them by several years, and yet Jon knew it wasn't so - his hair was white. Those eyes drew him in, throwing him a lifeline as he thrashed against the currents threatening to pull him under. "Are you Jon?" His stomach clenched, but there was nothing left inside of it to spew forth. Jon nodded. It seemed the man almost smiled, but the moment passed, and there was just that smooth, unwavering look of compassion on his face.

"Would you like to follow me to the chapel, or perhaps an empty room? It's best to give yourselves some privacy." His manner of speaking was strange, but not cold. Joey helped Jordan to the room opposite them, a small room with chairs and nothing more. Once they were all inside and the door was closed, the chaplain began to speak. None of them could tune him out, hanging on to his words as though he had real answers, but it was Jon who felt something different about him, something the others could not. 

Jon was struck by how the man spoke in terms of peace and eternal life, of strength and of hope - but above all, of love. These weren't Hallmark sentiments or Sunday-morning platitudes; his words cut Jon to the bone, heating him up from within as the stranger in the hallway's touch had done. For an insane instant, Jon wondered if he would die of grief, if the pain and heat signaled his imminent demise; he did not resist that thought. When the chaplain left them, the doctor took his place.

"If you have any more questions, now is the time to ask."

To a man, they all looked at Jon.

"I.. I just got here. Please; tell me what happened. How did he - "

He could not say the words. Saying it out loud would make it too real, too final.

"His death is under investigation. All that we know for sure is that he sustained multiple injuries from landing at high speeds after starting out a great height." 

This wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

"A fall?"

Jon couldn't fathom it. Donnie could be reckless sometimes - usually in front of a crowd - but that didn't make sense. The doctor clenched and unclenched his jaw, a minute motion which only Jon noticed.

"It may have been a fall. It may have been.. intentional."

Jon snapped. "No. NO WAY. No FUCKING WAY!"

Jordan grabbed his brother's arm, Joey taking the other. Jon continued, restrained but in no way calmer.

"There is NO WAY Donnie would've jumped on purpose! It had to be an accident! It had to.." Suddenly, the prospect of him falling seemed infinitely preferable to the alternative. There was a third possibility, one which Jon had overlooked, and one which the doctor was loathe to bring up.

"It's possible that he did not jump willingly. I'm sorry, due to the investigation, I can't.. Are there any other questions, medical ones? I don't believe he suffered; his injuries were so severe, his ability to feel pain would have effectively short-circuited on impact."

The dream. Donnie wasn't flying; he was falling. Or pushed.

"My God," Jon kept saying, finally relaxing, sliding to the floor as he stopped fighting gravity. "My God."

The others enfolded him, and the doctor excused himself. No explanation would ever suffice, appease, or reassure the ones left behind. What the doctor and the chaplain knew, what the EMT first responders knew, and Jon couldn't know, was this: In the brief moment before losing consciousness, before he departed his broken shell to fly free, Donnie had called out for Jon.


	2. A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A choice is made

The autopsy was completed with as much dignity as could be spared in such a busy morgue. Every injury was meticulously documented, including the many bruises and small wounds which pre-dated the final blow. The coroner had seen these marks before, but always on women or children; she knew the shape of bruise that a gripping set of fingers left in their wake, knew the trajectories of blows to the face - the man's assailant had been shorter, based on the angle of the punches - and was familiar with the savage tooth and nail marks imprinted in intimate places. "You had a rough time of it before the lights went out, didn't you, sweetie?," she asked, stroking his face with a gloved finger. 

Donnie looked on from somewhere outside of himself, knowing she couldn't hear him. He'd already tried to hug the others, to whisper in their ears, but nothing got through. He watched, grimly fascinated, as the woman worked; she handled him so gently, babying him, although she knew he could feel no pain. As he turned to the door of the room, he squinted; what was that bright light?

"I'm not ready," he said, though his voice shook with fear. "Please. Just let me stay a little while longer; I didn't get to finish.. some things. I never told Jon that - "

He didn't want revenge on the woman who had beaten him and ultimately caused his 'fall.' He didn't need to stick around for that, or to see his funeral, or to see Jon trying to move forward.. and yet he couldn't let go of this life yet. It was all he knew, and what was the saying? 'Better the devil you know'? 

"Do not be afraid." The light had form and a voice, and it made Donnie even more terrified as it drew near.

"Who are you?"

The being smiled, taking on the face of a beautiful man. "My name is Sariel. I have come to take you to the light."

Donnie looked at his body, being cleaned up, made as presentable as possible. For his burial. In the cold, cold ground. "And if I don't want to go? If I choose to stay here?"

The angel frowned slightly. "I would not recommend such a choice. The world is harsh enough for the living; it holds even fewer comforts for the dead."

Donnie took a step back. "But you can't force me to go. Right?"

Sariel squared his shoulders. "No, not in the way that you mean. However, if you choose to stay now, it may be some time before you get another chance to leave."

Donnie wavered. Sariel seized upon his uncertainty.

"Donnie, if you stay, they won't hear you. They won't see you. You won't be able to touch them, and every time you get near them, they'll feel your loss. Is that really what you want?"

He had to admit it wasn't. That sounded like.. well, like hell. Invisible and mute, forever? 

"Come with me, Donnie. We've been expecting you; there's something special in store."

Donnie exhaled slowly. "Do I at least get to see them one more time, say goodbye?"

Sariel shook his head. "It's time, Donnie." He held out a hand. "Come. It will be alright."

Donnie didn't see how being away from Jon could ever constitute as 'alright,' but he resigned himself to his fate. Being trapped and ignored held no appeal; perhaps he'd be able to watch over his loved ones from 'there'.

The light absorbed them, and Donnie was transformed before they reached the other side of its glow.


	3. Wings of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranger may be able to help

Castiel both loved and hated hospitals. They were places of healing, emotional and physical; often, the dying made peace with God and/or loved ones as they realized time was up. They were places of new life, of babies being born, of miracles taking place - and modern medicine WAS a miracle, a gift from God. They were also places of unimaginable pain and grief, and it was this that he felt as Jon ran into him, heading to the side of the man he loved, but arriving too late.

Dean had agreed to interview some of the nurses here for a possible case, and Castiel had overheard Jon's prayers. While he did not possess enough borrowed grace to retrieve Donnie's soul, he hoped that, with Dean's help (and the help/coercion of a few stronger, but equally rebellious, angels), he could intervene. Jon truly loved his friend, and they had been cheated by their own fear - and by the violence of another. Cas needed to find Dean.

Keeping his hood up let him pass by more people unnoticed. Though not vain, Cas knew he was what many people considered attractive, and he didn't need to deal with 'that' today. He found Dean taking a much-needed break in the hospital's cafeteria; anywhere with food was usually a good place to look. 

Taking a seat opposite his lover at the table, Cas tried to speak quietly, but his words were a jumbled rush in his urgency. Perhaps he should ask about Dean's day first, then segue into his idea.

"Are we taking the case? How has your day been, Dean?"

Dean sighed, forehead resting against the tabletop. Cas almost said how unwise that was, considering this was a hospital and the table was undoubtedly covered with pathogens, but thought better of it. "I can not even begin to tell you how weird things have become, Cas. I'm gonna need some time to think about this one."

Cas waited. How long was long enough before broaching what he wanted to discuss? "My day has been strange too, Dean. I have found a case of sorts, but I wanted to talk it over with you before moving forward."

Dean raised his head, looking intently at Cas. "Sounds like you've already decided to take it on. What is it?"

Cas was nervous, but excited, too. "There is an ancient covenant between the heavenly realms and the human race which states that, in cases of extreme need, a human soul may be brought back from heaven after death. Heaven only grants permission once every ten thousand years or so."

Dean pursed his lips before speaking again. "So is this the part where you tell me you've met an awesome dead person, and you'll be breaking into heaven to kidnap them back to earth?"

"It's not as.. simple as you make it sound, Dean. This is important. The man who died, I think he was murdered. It wasn't his time. He hadn't finished what he came to earth to do."

"Cas, a lot of people leave this life with unfinished business - but that's on them. With the exception of kids and the mentally disabled, every soul has free will, and they have to own their choices. If most people had their way, they'd live forever."

Cas looked like Dean had just kicked his puppy. "May I finish?"

Dean realized that his words - and the interruption itself - had stung Cas. "I'm sorry. Yes, please, tell me the rest."

"These are exceptional circumstances. He was supposed to be with his best friend, but they never got that far. I ran into the friend in the hallway, and I saw it."

Dean waited. Waited some more. Then.. "Saw..?"

"The mark, Dean. The mark of the covenant. It's deeper than grief, stronger than death; it's so.. pure, so unmistakable. That's when I knew. The dead man has to be brought back; it can't end like this." Cas paused for breath. "What would happen if I died? Wouldn't you, as people say, 'move heaven and earth' to get me back to you?"

Cas had him there. "And you'd do the same for me. You're right." This was going to be a nightmare, Dean could already tell, but Cas was so.. eager to take this on. Storming heaven couldn't be as bad as hell or purgatory, right? "And you're positive this couple has the mark, that we're not going to seriously disrupt the delicate balance of the universe forever and make legions of spiritual big-shots majorly pissed off in the process. Right?"

Cas nodded. 

"I need the words, Cas."

"I'm sure, Dean. I want to help them, and I want you to support me."

He knew he was going to agree. There hadn't really ever been any doubt, if he was honest with himself. "Just, one thing. We don't have to, like, steal a body or anything - do we?"

Cas hesitated, and Dean's eyes widened, his heart thumping in his chest. "Cas?"

Cas broke into a grin; he had played a joke of sorts, albeit a twisted one. "No. No bodies. The covenant takes care of such things."

Relieved, Dean sat back in his chair, remembering how it felt to breathe. "So when do we start?" That other case would have to wait; true love was on the line.

Cas placed a hand over Dean's on the table. "Now."


	4. Love After Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean approach a grieving Jon to explain the terms of the covenant.. and things don't go well

Dean didn't like 'cold-calling' - approaching people who hadn't sought him out for help (who may not even think they NEEDED help). He liked it even less when he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing; it made convincing the recipient of his help an even more difficult task.

Cas seemed so sure, though, and Dean figured that, while he had the lion's share of knowledge and experience concerning the human race, Cas had him beat on the angel side of things. In fact, Cas seemed to need to borrow another angel's patience as Dean came up with an endless stream of questions. 

"Dean, I know this is difficult for you, but a little bit of, well, faith, would go a long way in this."

Dean sighed. "I'm just.. I worry about you. You're not an angel anymore; you're this weird, fragile human with borrowed grace. I can't lose you. You sure this is worth it?"

Cas looked at him - more like INTO him, the way only he could - and nodded. "If this was happening to us, you wouldn't question it. You would want everything done to bring me back to you."

"True. I guess I just don't like cases where.. where you go someplace I can't follow. It's not the natural order of things."

"You don't like being the one left behind."

Cas had hit it on the head.

"I promise you, I will always come back to you."

"You can't promise that, Cas; nobody can."

Cas sealed it with a kiss. "I promise you." That tone always got to Dean; his lover still had a little of that angelic intimidation goin' for him, and he used it judiciously.

A matter of logistics occurred to Dean. "How will we even find this guy?"

"He's a celebrity, Dean. The funeral is going to draw media attention. That will work in our favor."

Dean stopped. "I am NOT stalking a grieving man at a funeral, Cas! It's - it's unconscionable!"

"We will blend in, pay our respects, and approach him after the service. Besides - we bring him tidings of great joy."

Dean rolled his eyes at the scriptural reference, then groaned. This meant enduring another one of Dean's pet peeves - dressing up and acting like an adult.

\---------------------------------

Cas had read up about the band the day before the funeral, even going so far as to listen to their most recent music online. Dean couldn't see what their music had to do with bringing a man back from the dead, but Cas was determined to immerse himself in this unusual case, getting a sense of who each man was, how they interacted, how they'd missed or ignored the signs between them.

"Look at these photographs. They clearly love each other very much." It was unnerving to Dean each time Cas used the present tense when speaking of the deceased, but he tried to have faith. 

"They do seem pretty touchy-feely, that's true."

Cas smiled. "Not just that. The eyes; they shine for one another in a unique way. Don't you see it?"

Dean wasn't sure that he did at first, but as the morning wore on, with video clips from concerts and interviews to flesh out the photographs, he became convinced.

"So, what exactly are you - we - going to tell Jon? 'Hi, sorry your best friend died, but we can bring him back for you by...' ? How do we finish that sentence? Preferably without us getting arrested or chased out of town with torches and pitchforks."

Cas turned thoughtful. "Tact is a human invention. Angels know only how to speak the truth, without sweetening it first."

"Sugar-coating. It's called sugar-coating."

"Sugar-coating, then." By this time, the boys were getting ready for the graveside service. Getting into the funeral proper seemed too risky, but outside, it would be easier to work their way into the group. Cas adjusted Dean's tie.

"I know how to explain it to another - to an angel," Cas caught himself, "but I've only ever explained it to one human. How did you understand it?"

"Uh, you enlist the help of two or three other angels, kidnap Donnie's soul, and bring him back here. Is that the gist of it?" 

Not even close. They were going to have to go over it again and again in the car on the way there until they figured out a way to make it understandable.

\-----------------------------------------------

The service was very moving. Surprisingly, the media kept a respectful distance from the actual grave site, though in the age of the telephoto lens, that probably didn't compromise their shots. Danny gave the eulogy, and Dean nearly shed a tear himself over all the wonderful things said about the dearly departed.

Joey, Danny and Jordan were holding Jon up, literally, as the casket was lowered into the ground. There was no parting of the clouds overhead, no sunbeam lighting on the wood, no rainbow of promise appearing in the sky. Jon so desperately wanted a sign that his friend was okay, that he was safe and happy, but no such comfort was given. Beyond the walls of the graveyard, the world went on, just as it had before, and Jon wanted to scream, to stop time, stop everything, to make everyone acknowledge what had been taken from them. He wanted Donnie to know that his death mattered, that HE mattered. Of course, the fans had been united in expressing their grief, but it wasn't enough. Nobody could know the pain Jon felt, nor lessen it in any way. That would take a miracle, and as the dirt was thrown on top of the casket, it seemed that the time for a miracle had passed. 

A suspect was in custody. The police wouldn't reveal any more information than that, but many had already guessed, and in the event that the woman in question should make bail, there would be no safe place for her to hide. Cas felt the injustice of the circumstances of Donnie's demise, but he was more focused on how to undo the damage than on seeing justice served. Love, not anger, was his fuel.

As the service came to a close, the crowd dispersed. The fewer people present, the more Cas and Dean would stand out, and they knew they wouldn't have much time to convince Jon that they were sane, honest, and benign before they were forcibly removed. Minutes dragged by, and soon only the four bandmates were left. It seemed obvious that they weren't going to leave until Jon was ready, which meant that the others would be involved in the explanation of the covenant, and in its proceedings. 

"Do you have any idea how low I feel, skulking in the shadows at a stranger's grave? We need to approach them now, Cas, before I change my mind."

"Very well. I suppose it will make it easier to explain Donnie's reappearance if his friends are aware of things from the start." 

Grief does strange things to people. The righteous indignation of noticing strangers lurking at his best friend's burial had mingled with Danny's pain, a dangerous combination. He'd noticed they weren't taking photos - unless their cams were extremely well-hidden, and since they'd been quiet and respectful throughout, Danny had opted not to call them out and make a scene - but now, as they approached, he felt the adrenaline beginning to percolate. 

"Who are you, and why are you here?" Danny instinctively stepped out in front of the others, forming a barrier between the two men and Jon.

"My name is Dean Winchester, and this is Cas.. uh, just call him Cas. We're sorry for your loss, and, uh, we'd like to help."

Danny's face was unreadable. Whatever they said next would save them or condemn them.

"We were at the hospital the night they brought in your friend," Cas hastened to add. That got Danny's attention.

"You some sort of investigators? You on the case?"

"Not exactly." Shit. His friends were hoping and waiting for answers, and those hopes had just been quashed. "We do work on cases, special cases. We believe this one qualifies."

Cas nodded. "Very rare case."

Danny's fist clenched and unclenched. There was power in that gesture, and Dean felt it. 

"Cas here has intimate knowledge of a way to help bring your friend back. Apparently, every ten thousand years or so, heaven allows the angels to retrieve one soul from the afterlife, in order to reunite them with their love on earth." Danny's stare made Dean lose his nerve, his voice, his train of thought.. Cas to the rescue.

"Jon, you and Donnie are meant to be together. Your story isn't finished, and with your cooperation, I can - "

Jordan had heard enough. Jon was crying, great rivers of salty tears over his already-swollen face. He had no strength left for sobs. "You guys some sort of religious nuts? Con artists? Do you get off on other people's pain?"

"No, I assure you, it's nothing like - "

Joey was speaking to Jon in a low, soothing tone, but Jon broke away, lunging forward toward Cas and Dean. "Don't you preach your garbage at me! This is my best friend's funeral! My best friend is in that box there, and he is never coming back! How DARE you bring me this -- bullshit, on today of all days? Donnie is DEAD! He's gone.. That bitch took him away from me! She did it once before, and now she's done it for forever!" 

Jon sank to his knees at the edge of the grave. "I'm sorry I cussed, I shouldn't have.. here, I mean. I shouldn't cuss right by you.." His voice was instantly softer, pleading, and it broke Cas' heart.

Jordan and Danny eased Jon back from the dirt. Over his head, they exchanged a look; had Jon just admitted he loved Donnie? Was that what he'd meant to say?

"Jordan, Joey, get him in the car." Danny had to close ranks, to protect Jon. 

Jon shook them off. "I'm not a kid, damn it!

Great start.

Dean had to think fast. "Look, this is important. I feel like the biggest jerk of all time, gatecrashing a funeral, but we wouldn't be here unless it was worth your time. Please just give us a chance to explain it to you. I don't want money, I don't want a story - I just want to help."

Jon turned to him, and if looks could kill, Dean and Cas would've been in the next available grave. "Why? What's it to you, what I lost? What's it to you, what happens next? What the FUCK would you know about it - about him, about me, about US?!"

Cas threw Jon a lifeline with his eyes, staring down the hate with love. "I know what it is to lose someone you were meant to be with and feel that you've missed your chance. I've lost Dean before, and I knew I couldn't risk losing him again without telling him I loved him."

Jon looked from one man to the other, taking it in. "So you two are together? You used to be best friends, and now..?"

Cas felt like things were taking a turn for the better.. and then they hit a wall.

"Are you telling me you died, and came back? Is that what you're saying?"

Danny tried to steer Jon away. "C'mon, man, let's just get you home - "

Jon went nose to nose with Dean. He wasn't drunk, but there was the smell of liquor underneath the mint on his breath. It hadn't touched the pain, but it had kept him from driving, which meant he couldn't choose to wreck on the way home to speed things along.

"You and your sick, lying boyfriend can just go back to hell. BOTH of you! You hear me? Just GO TO HELL and LEAVE ME ALONE!" 

Dean led Cas away as Danny and the others helped Jon in the opposite direction. "If we get arrested or killed, we're no good to anyone. Let's go."

Cas' heart had rarely felt so heavy as it did in that moment.

Getting Jon to listen to them would take a miracle - and it just so happened that one was on its way...


	5. The Dead Can Dance (And Sing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donnie had witnessed his own funeral.. and all the hubbub afterwards. Sariel and friends figure that, if anyone can get through to Jon, Donnie can.

Jordan insisted on staying with Jon until he was sure his older brother wouldn't do anything to harm himself. Jon drew the line at room-sharing, though, and Jordan agreed to sleep on the couch - positioned between Jon's room and the kitchen full of liquid temptation and pointy objects. Jon told him he was being dramatic, but, deep down, he was grateful, and when he didn't feel so awful, he'd tell Jordan so.

Grief, yelling at the strange strangers, and all of the events of the day finally took what little energy Jon had left, and he fell into a restless sleep. Within minutes, he was having the most vivid dream of his life. 

Everything was blindingly white, but after a few seconds, the light no longer hurt his eyes. The room had a round table in the center, surrounded by half a dozen chairs, and Jon watched as a man materialized in one of the seats.

"My name is Sariel. Please, won't you sit down? The others will be along shortly."

Others? "Who are you?"

The man smiled, and it seemed to Jon that he knew that face from somewhere. "Do you remember?"

Jon swallowed. "The hospital. You were the chaplain." Jon had that odd sense of peace again, despite the pain of his loss. "Who are you REALLY?"

Sariel smiled. "I did minister to you and your friends. I'm also the one who helped Donnie cross over."

"Am I dead?" 

"No. You're dreaming. Though the line between the two is hazier than most people would care to know."

The other seats filled with similarly peaceful, beautiful beings of light, leaving Jon the only one standing. They were waiting, and he figured they wouldn't give him any more information until he sat. He was proven correct the moment he took a seat.

"Jon, why were you so quick to dismiss those two visitors at the gravesite?"

Was he in some sort of trouble? Had that been a test - or maybe a sign? "Because people don't come back from being dead. I don't know exactly what happens, but I DO know they don't come back."

The angel to Sariel's left - for Jon knew in his gut that they were angels, though the word had not been said aloud - spoke. "Cas and Dean want to help you, just as they said. Castiel was one of us, but the need to help your kind - Dean in particular - led him to choose a different path."

Jon was glad to be sitting down. "So this Cas became human? He 'fell'?" The horrible dream of Donnie falling came back full force, and Jon gripped the table's edge.

"It's more complicated than that, but, yes, Cas was an angel, and now he's not. Likewise, Donnie has also been changed."

Jon remembered something else from that night. "The man in the hood, the one I ran into? He was - he used to be - "

All heads nodded in unison. "Cas can not come to heaven by his own grace, but he is willing to expend some of his 'borrowed' grace to help Donnie return to you." The way Sariel said 'borrowed' told Jon there was more to the story, but all he could focus on was Donnie.

"How am I supposed to believe he can come back? And what do you mean by 'changed'?" 

At that, the table and everyone seated around it vanished into mist, and Jon was standing on.. well, he couldn't see it, just feel it. This must be what people see when they meditate on nothingness, he thought, and then a bright point of light in the distance began to accelerate toward him, growing larger and taking shape in the process.

He couldn't see the face, but the height and the build matched, and he knew him by his.. energy. 

"Donnie?"

"It's me, Jon. I can't stay long. You need to listen to them. I saw the whole thing - my autopsy, the arrest, my funeral - and what happened after. I know it doesn't make sense; nothing that's happened over the past few days has made sense. Please find Cas and Dean and at least hear them out."

"Why can't I just stay here with you?"

It was a reasonable question, a simpler solution - but it wasn't time yet. Jon answered his own question.

"I can't believe this. How do I know it isn't just my brain playing tricks on me? How can you prove it's really you?"

Donnie sighed. "You remember that song you always tried to get me to record, but I wouldn't do it, 'cuz it sucked?"

Jon smiled. "Yeah, I remember. You wrote it when you were wasted, but it was really sweet, Donnie. I liked it."

"Well, what if I sing it now?"

"That won't prove it, Donnie. I already know it by heart; this could be another mind trick."

Donnie thought. "Okay.. What if I sing it, AND I show you the dance moves I had Jimmy come up with, just in case we ever did anything with it?"

Jon was touched. "You thought that far ahead?"

"Yeah, well, maybe I was planning on doin' it just for you. For a birthday or somethin.'"

It was true; they had had a surprise free concert for the fans planned for Jon's birthday. Nobody outside of the group had known - and now they never would.

Jon couldn't get over it. "Donnie, you said your song was even worse than Jordan's 'Truck and Fish.' Were you really gonna - "

"Can I just do this already, before I lose my nerve?" 

Jon promised not to interrupt again.

Dying hadn't diminished Donnie's talents in the least. Jon watched as he started to move, Donnie having exhorted him to remember some of the steps so he could check with Jimmy later and see that this was no figment of his imagination. 

As Donnie sang, Jon felt tears fill his eyes. Was there crying in heaven? He seemed to recall a verse in the Bible about every tear being wiped from the eyes of the souls in heaven, but he wasn't sure. He should ask his dad. By the time Donnie's performance was finished, Jon was beaming through the pain.

"Ask Jimmy. When he bears out the story, go and find Cas and Dean."

"Donnie, wait - "

"I have to go. I'll be waiting, Jon. Please.."

The rest of what he had to say was cut off, as a blast of wind swept past Jon, taking Donnie with it. 

When he woke, he found Jordan standing over him, glass of water in hand. Was he going to offer Jon a drink, or throw it over him to wake him up?

"You okay, Jon?"

He stared at his younger brother. "You won't believe me if I explain it, but, yeah. I'm okay. I need to see Jimmy tomorrow."

"The choreographer?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "No, Jimmy Fallon. Of COURSE, Jimmy the choreographer!" Jon pushed off the blankets, and Jordan worried he was gonna do something crazy, like take a running jump at the window, but he never expected Jon to start -

"Are you.. dancing?"

Maybe I should've pushed for Jon to go to the walk-in clinic before heading home, Jordan thought too late. 

"I gotta remember these moves." Jordan watched; those didn't look like any of the moves they had planned for the show. 

"Jon, I don't know if we'll be doing the show now. I wouldn't worry about - "

"It's not for that. Just, have a little faith, okay?"

If Jon was going mad with grief, the brotherly thing to do seemed to be to keep him company. "Okaaaay. Show me the moves."

Jon became the teacher, Jordan, the student. Wasn't that, like, one of the signs of the end times or something?

They worked on the routine until Jon was satisfied he'd remember it in the morning. After they went to see Jimmy, Jordan was hauling his bro to the doc, no question. 

At least he wasn't crying. He actually seemed.. well, hopeful. Jordan only prayed it wasn't the calm before a storm.


	6. Jon Knight, He's A Freakin'.. Dancer?!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get weirder before they get better

Cas hadn't given up hope that Jon would come around. Dean wasn't so sure, but had agreed to stay in town for a few days just in case. Meanwhile...

Jon woke Jordan first thing. Jordan tried to be patient, and tried to make Jon see sense.

"He may not even be in town."

"He has to be. Let's go to his studio."

"Can I have coffee first?"

"Can I kick your ass first?"

Jordan gave in. "Studio it is."

Jon felt stupid, and insane, and high, and - if this turned out to be fake, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. Still, he had to know. Jimmy was just setting up for his next class when Jon practically body-slammed him into the wall. 

"Well, good morning to you, too."

"Sorry. I - did you teach Donnie some moves for that one song?"

Jimmy turned a little pale. "I.. did. Did he tell you about that?"

"Not exactly. Can I show you some moves, and you tell me if they're the right ones?" 

He considered it for a minute. "Wait. Jimmy, can you do the moves while Jordan watches, and I'll see if I can do them without looking at you?"

Jimmy and Jordan were exchanging worried looks. Jordan shrugged. "He's been chewin' on this thing all night. I'd just humor him."

Jimmy looked at the clock. It didn't seem possible; hadn't it just been ten til a minute ago? Why did he suddenly have ten more minutes til class? "Okay, guys. I'll play along." 

Jon turned his back to the mirrors, and Jimmy turned his back on Jon. Jordan stood to the side, watching back and forth.

Jon's version of 'the routine' wasn't as smooth as Jimmy's, but it was undeniably the same. Jordan felt something like panic prickling along the back of his scalp, engulfing his head, paralyzing his face. This was surreal. This was impossible. This was.. happening.

When Jon stopped, he and Jimmy both turned to Jordan. "Well?"

Jordan was numb. "It.. It was the same." 

Jimmy didn't think Jordan would lie, but, just to verify it for himself.. "Jon, would you show me?"

Jon started the routine, and Jimmy felt faint. He knew Donnie hadn't had time to teach Jon the moves, and anyway, why would he? 

Before either of them could start asking Jon questions, he was on the floor, crying and laughing. "We have to find the guys."

"Joey and Danny?" 

"No. Well, them, too, but, the two guys from the gravesite. They were telling the truth. Donnie is - "

Jon was dragging Jordan out the door, and Jimmy was left in the dust, scratching his head. "Glad I could help?"

Jimmy wasn't sure, but he felt he might have just witnessed something beyond the realm of the possible. 

Jon was beginning to feel that Donnie's death might not be the end, that the pain he felt didn't have to be his burden to bear for the rest of his natural life. He had gotten a taste of the most addictive substance in the world: hope.


	7. The Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has to find Cas and Dean

Jordan could barely keep up with Jon. How did the man have this much energy, when less than twenty four hours before, he'd been ready to collapse after the slightest exertion?

"Jon, I'm not going another step until you tell me what just happened back there."

Jon's face was glowing - like, GLOWING - and Jordan wondered whether he'd picked up some weird new disease at the hospital. He looked.. wrong. Different. Changed.

"Jordan, this is gonna sound crazy. I had a dream last night, only it wasn't a dream; it was - a vision. A visitation."

Jordan was imagining visitations with his brother at a nice, private facility upstate. "Uh huh.."

"I'm serious! There were angels, and then there was Donnie. He showed me that dance routine, to prove it was really him. Think about it, Jord - how else would I have known the steps? I'm the worst dancer in the whole group!"

Jordan couldn't formulate a respectable lie, and anyway, Jon had made his peace with his lackluster dancing abilities. Jordan didn't look convinced yet.

"Jimmy said only him and Donnie knew the moves. I'm telling you, Donnie taught me that routine last night."

"Jon, do you realize what you're saying? I mean, are you listening to the words coming out of your mouth right now?"

People were walking past them, non-plussed by their strange topic of conversation. God bless New Yorkers.

"Don't you believe in heaven? Aren't there some things in life that can't be explained by normal means?"

"Well, sure, but - Jon, people don't come back from heaven. They don't visit us while we sleep. They stay there, and we stay here. The worlds don't mix. Are you tellin' me you're some sort of psychic now, that you see dead people?" Jordan got a flashback to watching Donnie's scene in The Sixth Sense, how gaunt he'd looked, how frail and broken. He shook it off, not wanting to remember him that way.

"I don't think I'm psychic. It wasn't me, it was HIM. He came through; I saw him as clear as I see you right now." That wasn't quite correct; Donnie's face had never been fully 'filled in' during the visit - but it was him; Jon was certain of it.

Jordan wasn't sure which terrified him more: the thought of Jon being able to know things he shouldn't, like the dance moves, or the thought of the dead actually being able to communicate with the living. 

"We gotta find those guys."

Jordan could tell Jon wasn't going to let this go. "Where? Do we even have a last name, a phone number, anything?"

Jon thought back. One of the men had mentioned a name that sounded like a type of gun. Wesson? Glock? "Winchester. He said his last name was Winchester."

Jordan needed to sit down. Some random person's stoop seemed as good a place as any. "Even IF that's his real name, and even IF they're still in town, there are thousands of hotels in NYC. Besides, hotels aren't supposed to tell people over the phone whether or not a specific person is staying there, for security reasons. Thank God," Jordan finished, thinking about how many hotels he'd stayed in over the years. Jon took a seat beside him, though he seemed to have lost the ability to stay still. Like, at all.

"We'll find them. Let's start by going back to where we met them."

Jordan blanched. "The hospital?"

"No, no. The graveyard." Then, "I want the other guys to be there, too. I want to tell them everything that's happened." 

"Jon, I love you, but this is not healthy. The other guys are grieving, too, and we just buried Donnie yesterday. The last place they probably want to be today is right there, wallowing in that pain. Maybe you should wait a day or two before going to visit - "

"I'll go by myself if I have to. I mean it. I'm not afraid." Jon seemed so calm, so firm, no longer agitated. Jordan had rarely seen his brother this determined about anything.

"You really would, wouldn't you. You're set on this." It was not phrased as a question.

"I have to find them." Jordan had a bad feeling about this, but he didn't think Jon was in any fit state to do this alone. Besides, what if these guys were dangerous? Jon would need back-up. 

"Okay, Jon. We'll go. But I'm tellin' you, they won't be there."

\----------------------

It was a beautiful day at the graveyard. Cas was seated beneath a tree, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, landing on him and dappling his skin like splotches of paint. Dean paced beside him.

"You're sure your friends told you that Jon is on his way?"

Cas just smiled beatifically. "Positive. The visitation worked, Dean. Jon is convinced."

Dean paused before asking. "Has anyone explained the process to Donnie?"

Cas nodded. "As much as can be explained, yes." 

It was so peaceful there, Cas could have sprawled out and taken a nap. Sariel wouldn't let them down, and the others who agreed to help, Ambriel and Rehael, were older and wiser than Cas and Sariel put together. This would be Ambriel's second venture into the fulfillment of the covenant, and Cas had faith that things would work out. He'd felt more of the glory lately, the way he used to feel all of the time - just flashes of it here and there, like walking into a cold spot, only the glory was warm and alive. He wouldn't go back for the world, but he did miss it on some level. 

"You're thinking about heaven, aren't you?," Dean asked. There was no condemnation in his tone, no jealousy, and Cas sighed. 

"Yes. I was. I think of it, what I left, what I lost. Not due to regrets; just.. I suppose it's as though I had lost a human love. I love you and I'm happy with you, but that happiness does not negate what I had before. Even though that part of my existence has ended, there is still a sort of.. fondness for it."

"So, heaven is, like, your dead lover?"

Cas opened his eyes. "In the sense that I can't go back, yes. It wasn't all bad, Dean. There was a simplicity to it, of always knowing what was expected of me. Now, I am surrounded by choices, every moment. Sometimes the pressure is too much."

Dean came closer, settling beside him. "I think I get what you're saying. People are raised to make choices, so they don't question it - it's hard-wired in their nature. You, you had to learn how to do it."

Their hands touched, twining together perfectly with the cool earth beneath them, grounding them. "Yes. You understand."

Dean looked up. "What about Donnie? Do you think he'll miss heaven, once he's back?"

Cas frowned. "It's different for each soul. Time will tell; but I hope he will never regret his choice."

"I'm sure he won't." Dean was offering comfort and support, and Cas found it incredibly attractive. The nurturing, sensitive side of Dean was a rare commodity, and Cas was one of the privileged few to ever experience it.

Light kisses turned to deeper ones, both of them forgetting where they were. Then again, what better way to celebrate being alive than to express love for one another in a resting place of the dead? Cas was just reaching for Dean's fly when someone cleared their throat.

"Uh, knock knock, guys." Jon was blushing, but they didn't have time to wait for those two to.. 

Boner-kill to the max. Dean lifted his head from its dirt pillow, craning his neck to confirm what he already suspected. "Gentlemen. Welcome back." Dean trying to stifle his libido and summon up some form of dignity after being caught in a compromising position. In broad daylight. In a cemetery.

Cas recovered himself more easily, peeling himself away from Dean and rising to his feet. "I'm so glad you came back. My friends reported to me that last night's visitation went well."

Jordan was agape. "You knew about the weird angel-dream-thingy? How could you know?"

Jon shook his head. "I'm not totally sold on this thing, but there's no way that wasn't Donnie. No way."

Cas was neutral. "Of course it was him." Dean was standing now, praying the bulge wasn't as distracting to anyone else as it was to him.

"So, we're listening." Jordan was still in protector mode, unwilling to allow anyone or anything to further hurt his brother. Jordan's grief ran deep, too, but his priority was Jon.

"I'll need you to hold hands with me, Jon. There are prayers which must be spoken out loud, and I will be forming the physical link, the bridge, between heaven and earth. I need to send your energy up with mine."

Jordan looked incredulous. "Prayer? Prayer is gonna plug Jon in to heaven's USB port and download Donnie back to earth? Come on."

Cas was trying to be patient. "Heaven's ways are a mystery. They can not be fully known, even by angels."

"Or ex-angels," another voice said from above. Sariel was seated in the tree, and Jordan gasped. Jon just stared.

"Or even smart-mouthed humans," Rehael added, making all mortal heads turn toward another tree. Ambriel, seated beside him, simply smiled.

Cas smiled. "Wonderful! You're here. Then we can begin."

Jordan watched as Jon moved toward Cas. The active-duty angels came down and formed a triangle around Jon and Cas, linking hands as a barrier of protection. 

"This is so.. so.. "

Jordan felt faint as the angels began to pray in a language he'd never heard before. It was beautiful, but he couldn't commit a single syllable of it to memory. Why did he feel so tired? He allowed himself to fall to his knees, blaming exhaustion. 

Jon seemed to be glowing again, but Jordan found he could not speak. He was rooted to the spot, heart thumping in his head, the world spinning off-kilter. When the voices stopped, he was able to collapse, taking in gulps of air as if he'd exerted himself.

Cas frowned. "Something is missing."

"Yeah, your marbles. What the hell did you do to my brother?"

Jon was keening, the most mournful, primal sound, swaying on the spot as though he'd be ill. Jordan moved toward him with some difficulty, and Ambriel spoke.

"Jordan," he began, the man's name sounding strange on his tongue, "as you move closer, the energy grows. You must pray with us, Jordan."

Cas looked to the older angel.

"This is even more rare than the last covenant rescue. The members of this 'band' are so bonded, none is complete without the others. We need the four earth-bound men to join with us as we pray."

Joey and Danny came running toward the spot, then slowed. Something wasn't right about this scene; maybe the glow-y, buzz-y lights hovering over everyone? Hmm.

Jon turned, coming out of his ecstasy to find his friends had arrived. "Guys! You're here! We need to pray. Please."

Joey and Danny had felt drawn here, though their grief was still raw. It had taken everything in Danny to come back, knowing there was no cell signal in this part of the cemetery; he was waiting for updates on the investigation into Donnie's death. At last report, suspect was still in custody, and STILL maintaining her innocence. All marital assets had been frozen, and Danny only hoped that his friend hadn't updated his will since getting married...

"Pray?" Danny looked at Joey, who shrugged, as if to say, Why not?

"I'll explain later, I sweah. Just, please. These are friends of mine. Come and pray with us."

Joey was willing to do just about anything to make Jon feel better - up to and including things which might get him into hot water with the wife - so he was down. "I'm game. Danny?"

Danny could feel a rush unlike anything he'd ever known emanating from the spot where the others were standing. With a sigh, he acquiesced, joining his friends. That left Jordan as the hold-out.

The others had linked hands, waiting. Jordan felt his feet begin to move, one in front of the other. His head wasn't in it, but his heart and soul urged him forward, and soon the circuit was complete. He felt a fool, but as soon as everyone saw that this was all a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, they could leave this place and figure out what sort of shape the rest of their lives would take.

Sariel, Ambriel and Rehael were able to reach around all of the men, which didn't make sense. What had happened to the laws of physics in this place? And why was it getting so hot? As the prayers began in earnest, all four New Kids felt euphoric, their minds filled with strange words and images they couldn't describe or recreate. Dean, for his part, could do nothing but watch, concern furrowing his brow; he was no angel, nor had he ever been, and he hadn't loved Donnie. Part of him felt sorry for not knowing the man, and wondered if he'd get the chance upon his return.

Before Dean's very eyes - for he was the only human present who could keep them open, and that only barely - he watched as Cas glowed brighter and brighter before beginning to disappear. The prayers ended, and the four men fell backwards with the force of its power. Jon spoke first, panicking as he found the angels had vanished.

"Where are they?"

Dean looked up, then at Jon.

"Oh. How long does this sort of thing usually take?"

Dean approached, the energy giving him goose-bumps as he crossed the invisible threshold into sacred ground. He wondered what the groundskeepers would make of all the flowers which would undoubtedly flourish in this unlikely spot, chuckling to himself at their impending bewilderment. His guess was that there would be a riot of roses, possibly some lavender or jasmine - all angelic favorites.

"That I can't say. There's so much he can't tell me, you know?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah. Right. Makes sense."

"So, what exactly just happened, Jon?" Danny was side-eyeing Dean, and Dean understood.

"You guys better sit down. It's a long story."


	8. Earth Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ".. shall be transformed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.." 1 Corinthians 15, verse 52 
> 
> Donnie returns

Being without Cas for any length of time made Dean uneasy. He found it hard to admit to missing the former angel, just as Jordan was having a hard time admitting that something supernatural had just happened. 

Having time to talk was both a blessing and a curse. Dean did his best to address Jordan's doubts while trying to ignore the nagging finger of worry poking his brain (shouldn't they be back by now? What happens if Cas gets caught trespassing? What if Donnie says no - will they force him?), but with every passing minute, the tension grew.

Joey sided with Jon; the guy seemed so sure, so hopeful, and he wanted to believe. Danny was leaning toward Jordan on this one, though he, too, wanted it to be true. 

\------------------

In heaven, Ambriel was leading the mission. Donnie was still in the Hall of Review, going over his latest life (the revelation that it hadn't been his *only* life had not been well-received, and his mind was still choking on it) when Ambriel was granted a moment to speak with him.

"Do you know who I am?," the high-ranking angel asked.

"Are you the boss of the one who brought me here?"

"In a way, yes. I outrank Sariel. I am also one of the few angels ever to retrieve a soul from heaven and return them to earth. You are the second soul I have seen fit to rescue in this way under the terms of the covenant."

Donnie looked again at the reel of his life. He was up to the footage of his teens now, reliving the early days of NKOTB, seeing how he had treated the others. It pained him; Ambriel could feel it.

"It's not too late to fix things with the others. If you come with me now, you will be with them again."

Donnie replayed his limited experience of heaven in his mind. There was so much he could do here, so much he could learn - not to mention the relief of knowing he had actually made it here at all. The screen showed Jon, smiling and joking with him, only - he looked.. different..

Ambriel watched as Sariel snuck in through a weak spot in the barrier. Rehael was a footfall behind.

"What is it, Donnie? What do you see?"

Donnie's hand rested against the screen, the image of Jon's face becoming freeze-framed. "He knew, didn't he. He knew even then."

"Knew what, Donnie?" Sariel now, softly. 

Donnie's voice was barely above a whisper. "He knew that he was different. He knew what he wanted, and it wasn't girls or money or fame. He wanted love. He wanted me."

How could pain exist in heaven? How could he feel shame? Donnie wanted to die all over again, to go into nothingness to avoid it - but it was everywhere he turned.

"Whether you stay or go, you will have to face the consequences of your mistakes."

"Like, punishment?"

Rehael shook his head. "No punishments. Cause and effect. If a person puts their hand into a flame, heaven does not intervene to prevent the flame from burning the flesh. That is not punishment, but cause and effect." 

Donnie thought he understood. "How long?"

"How long what?" Ambriel again.

"How long did he know? How long did *I* know? All those years.."

Rehael rested a hand on his shoulder. "They were not wasted years, as long as you learned from them. Did you?"

Donnie thought of the good things: the love he'd shared with others, the children he'd fathered, the happiness he'd spread. "I did."

Ambriel knew they had to hurry; too much earth time had passed, and they couldn't afford to let Donnie fall into a funk which could last millennia.

"What is your decision, Donnie?"

He had one more question before he gave his answer.

"Will he still want me, after everything I did to screw up?"

The three angels smiled. "Come and see."


	9. Out of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape from paradise

Cas could not enter the Hall of Review without detection. He opted to stick to the borderland, gathering discarded grace to sustain him and keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Older angels molted grace almost like feathers, and he felt renewed as he absorbed it. Pity he wouldn't be able to take some with him, but, like the manna of scripture, it could not be intentionally stored for future use.

The weak, sloughed-off bits of grace let him blend in just enough here to avoid raising the alarm. Venturing further in toward the center of glory might make him forget who he was and why he was here, not to mention the risk of someone recognizing him; he had been well-known and well-liked here, once upon a time.

The others were speeding towards him, Donnie held up by their capable arms. It was time to descend, by far the most dangerous part of the mission. Some souls didn't survive the attempt, though no one had mentioned this to Jon or Donnie, as fear was the great enemy of faith.

Grabbing hold of Cas, they plunged through the barrier, the tear in the universal fabric swiftly repairing itself. Ambriel, Sariel and Rehael had each lost part of their grace as they bent heaven's rules, though how much, only time would tell. Since 'the Fall,' capital F, of so many angels long ago, angels were given slightly more leeway in matters of obedience, but even that had its limits. Cas hoped the sacrifice would be worth it for his friends.

They found the others exactly where they had left them. Joey had fallen asleep, head resting on Jordan's stomach. Danny and Jon were deep in conversation when a high-pitched whistling began, growing in volume by the second. They felt the impact of something hitting the earth with great force, though nothing was visible. As the dust settled, a pitiful groan met their ears.

"Donnie?"

Jon was over in a flash, three bright points of light shimmering atop the form of what looked like Donnie. 

Another groan. It SOUNDED like Donnie.

Jordan and Joey ran up to the spot. "I don't believe - "

Joey covered Jordan's mouth as Danny joined them. 

Jon was kneeling by the mass of tingling, twitching Donnie, watching as his breath became even as if in sleep. He had not yet opened his eyes.

Dean was helping Cas, who was glowing with the fading embers of foraged grace. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise." Cas noticed Dean had tears in his eyes, and gave his lover's hand a squeeze.

"Wake him, Jon - but gently. Very gently." Jon heeded Cas' advice.

"Donnie, it's me. You're back. I.."

Cas felt himself tearing up, too. Looking around, he was in good company.

"It's a miracle." Joey had voiced the sentiment, and all had to concur.

Donnie opened his eyes to see Jon leaning over him, caressing his forehead. "Jon."

"Yeah. I'm here." Jon helped him up, slowly, and Donnie felt his body coming back to life. No; this was not the old, tired, broken body. This was a NEW body. He was a new creature, born again.

The new arms grabbed ahold of Jon's. "I came back for you. For this."

Jon held perfectly still as Donnie pulled him closer. Normally, Danny would've been freaked out watching two of his friends kiss, but the past few days had pushed him so far beyond his comfort zone, it didn't faze him.

Just before their lips touched, Donnie said the words. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

As they kissed, there was a loud whooshing sound, like a sail catching the wind. Everyone gasped - except for Jon and Donnie, whose mouths were otherwise engaged.

"Holy shit!," Joey said, no pun intended.

"Wings?"

Jordan needed a trip to the pharmacy. No way did Donnie just sprout - 

"Cas? Why does he - why does he have those?" Dean had asked a good question. Cas really wished he had a good answer.

"I.. I don't know." Cas turned to the points of light, which were slowly morphing back into their normal earthly forms. "Why does Donnie have wings?"

Rehael and Sariel were both looking at Ambriel. Soon, EVERYONE was.

Ambriel took on his usual visitation form and prepared to speak.


	10. Wrap Your Love Around Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to grips with Donnie's new body

Ambriel had a theory, which was more than the others could come up with.

"Perhaps as we carried him to earth from the heavenly realms, Donnie absorbed some of our shed grace." Cas shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, his mind racing ahead to a further complication. Ambriel picked up on his apprehension.

"Castiel, did you gather grace from the borderland while we were completing the mission?"

Cas swallowed, nodding. Dean's hand in his kept him from bolting. Ambriel reminded the younger angel that grace couldn't be stored that way, and posited that Cas' foraged grace may also have transferred to Donnie. Much like an exorcised demon, it had to go SOMEwhere when it left its original host, and Donnie was the least resistant vessel available. "Besides, Cas, things have changed since you left. We recycle grace now, infusing it into new angels." 

Oh.

"Is it permanent?" Jon asked it aloud, though he wasn't truly aware of what he was saying; he was too busy taking in the sight of Donnie, who was moving in a circle, trying to see over his own shoulder at the wings protruding from between his shoulder-blades. The other guys were staring, too, unable to look away. Donnie looked so beautiful, though his movements were awkward and unsure. As Jon took a step towards him, D's wings began to flutter without any effort on his part. His shirt was ruined, split by the wings' sudden sprouting, and his hands pulled at the tatters, casting them aside and exposing his new skin to the sun.

Jordan approached, his hand outstretched, needing to touch and prove that this was real. Donnie's wings folded in on themselves, out of Jordan's reach, though he hadn't willed them to do so. Cas watched as Jon pulled Donnie close again, accepting this new thing, come what may. Donnie's wings stretched to full size before wrapping around Jon and doubling back onto himself. They were obscured by the feathers which caught the light and shimmered with colors none of them had ever seen before.

"This feels.. I feel so safe." Jon didn't care about anything else in that moment, and he became oblivious to the discussion going on a few feet away.

"You ARE safe here." Sariel was hovering over them, and Jon smiled. "He is your protector, and you are his. That may not make sense now, but it will, in time."

To the side, Ambriel and Rehael were deep in conversation with Cas, Dean, and the other three New Kids. Joey, Danny and Jordan kept stealing glances at the new couple, making it hard for the angels to get through.

"None of you can tell anyone about Donnie coming back. He will have to spend his life in hiding, and if Jon is to be with him, that means - "

"He'll have to hide, too," Joey finished for Rehael.

"How does that work with, you know, the impending murder trial and all?" Danny shuddered at the words, but they no longer stung as much. 

"The trial will proceed. She intended to end his life, and, for all intents and purposes, she did end it."

"Is that just, sending her to prison for a murder that was later undone?," Jordan wondered.

"Do you really want someone like that to be out, free to harm others?," Ambriel asked, quashing that train of thought. "His estate will be probated, his homes and possessions disposed of as he had requested. She will get nothing, for obvious reasons."

"So he has to start over with nothing?" Joey's face was a study in pain.

"I have everything I need. I have Jon, and you guys; I don't need that other stuff anymore."

Donnie and Jon had made their way over, finally disentangled for a breather. Cas smiled; he knew that look: messy hair, swollen, 'used' lips, flushed cheeks.. He nudged Dean, who joined in the joke.

"You'll have to learn to keep your wings hidden, Donnie," Ambriel warned. "Cas, would you assist me in explaining it to him?"

The two of them retreated with Donnie to a spot several yards away to help him practice. "Are you guys really gonna hide out forever? We're never going to see you again?" Joey was trembling at the thought.

"I'll find a way to keep in touch. The more people who know a secret, the harder it is to KEEP it a secret. I don't want to cage him in a house or an apartment somewhere; that's no life. We'll have to move, somewhere nobody will recognize us or care."

Danny hugged Jon. "I understand. You do what you gotta do; you guys deserve to be happy. It's been a long time coming."

Jordan hated the thought of losing his brother this way. "Jon.. I was wrong - about everything. It's just still so hard to believe, that he's really here, and that you two finally - "

They checked on Donnie, who was currently standing shirtless in the sun, looking as human as he ever had. They couldn't see his wings, though Cas and Ambriel were touching what appeared to be thin air. The wings were still there, but Donnie was learning to keep them hidden through a form of benign mind control.

Jon missed seeing them. He loved Donnie, every bit of him, and if that meant wings, too, then, so be it. Jordan and Joey needed hugs, and Dean wondered what it was like to be part of such a close-knit group. They were like family, and he was a little, well, jealous. He needed Cas.

At first, Dean attributed Cas' glow to his proximity to Ambriel and Donnie's, but as time went on, the glow increased. Ambriel had noticed it, too, biding his time.

When Amb and Cas were satisfied that Donnie had a grasp of the basics of wing control and concealment, the lesson ended. "Cas, how do you feel right now?"

Cas froze, tuning into his feelings. "Strange. I feel almost like.. before the change."

Donnie and Ambriel stepped away, and Cas continued to glow until it was painful to look at him. Dean's jaw dropped. The whooshing sound sliced through the air as before, and a collective gasp went up.

"Cas. Your wings!" Dean had to touch them; he had missed them, and he wasn't sure they'd last. 

Cas flapped them several times, trying them out, doubting his own eyes. The feel of Dean's hands on him *there*, where the skin was so new, coming to life in real time, made him shiver. A warm breeze ruffled his feathers, rippling them like water, and goose-bumps washed over him from head to toe. 

The New Kids were beside themselves, half-wondering if this wing thing was contagious. Joey hoped it wasn't; he really liked this shirt, and Donnie's and Cas' hadn't survived. It would save on airfare home, though.

The energy had changed. It had always been different here, but the guys had attributed that to grief, and to the fact that most living people felt strange spending time at a cemetery. Now, the air thrummed with the presence of the sacred. Cas was crying, tears streaming silently down both cheeks, and all Dean could do was hold him.

"I feel it, Dean. The glory, the grace - it's all in me."

Dean felt it, too, white-hot in his lover's veins, melding with the essence of who he had become as a man. The knowledge of human experience was still there, but his powers were back - no need for borrowed grace now. Best of all, if he tuned in, quieting his mind, he could hear the universal song, all of creation singing in harmony. It didn't change his mission in life, didn't change his love for Dean and his new-found family - but it moved him, to know that, even if it was only temporary, he could be a part of that once more.

It was as if Donnie leaving heaven had opened a portal, and grace was trickling down into Cas. Ambriel dismissed the notion. "Impossible. The heavens do not 'leak' onto earthbound souls. This is either stemming from Donnie, his gathered grace transferring to you, or - "

"Or?"

"Or Someone is bestowing it upon you on purpose."

Cas blanched. There was only one being authorized to do such a thing, a name so perfect, so powerful, that pseudonyms had to be employed. 

"You mean..?," Danny asked, looking up with reverence.

"Exactly. Perhaps our covert mission was not entirely frowned upon. If this state of grace remains past sundown, it is most likely permanent."

Cas was already getting to grips with having wings again. The muscles were untrained, needing discipline, and then there was the matter of concealment. The latter came first, the former following shortly after, though it needed work. 

Conscious of the fact that other people could arrive at any time, the group agreed that this was the part where they would have to go their separate ways. There were so many thanks to be given: thanks for help, for belief, for support. Ambriel could not be earthbound for much longer, being needed elsewhere, so he left Rehael and Sariel to answer a few more questions. Dean, who had been watching the lovers even when it didn't seem so, shook each one's hand.

"I don't know what to do. You guys seem to know about this stuff; is there any way that..?" Donnie felt clueless.

Dean produced a beat-up business card of sorts. "You guys can call me. I - *we'll* - do what we can to help."

Donnie nodded. "Thanks."

"Cas, we need to get some rest. After that, I'll fill you in on the next case."

Cas smiled. "Thought you weren't sure about taking it?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well. I've got an angel helping me, and besides, it doesn't seem so weird now. Not after this."

Jon couldn't let them leave without hugs. Watching Dean's angel hug his angel, wings overlapping, was a beautiful thing, and he knew he'd never forget it. It was moving for everyone, in ways they couldn't begin to unpack.

With the hunters gone, the AWOL angels really had to leave. "Best of luck to you both. To all of you." Looking at each one's face, the angels prayed that everything would work out. "We don't have business cards, but our lines are always open."

That got a smile from most of them, and then, in a flash of light, they were gone.

"Donnie, we have to get out of here. It's not safe; if anyone recognizes you.."

He knew it was true.. but how could he leave his friends again, this time on purpose?

"Danny. I can't believe this is goodbye. I'm gonna miss you like crazy."

Danny nodded, choking on his words. "But I'll be okay, as long as you are. I'll know you're out there somewhere, and that's enough for me."

"Joey.. You take care of those kids of yours. You too," he threw at Danny and Jordan. "Jordan. We haven't always seen eye to eye, but you're like a brother to me. No bad blood?"

Jordan had been the doubting Thomas of the group. "I'm sorry I didn't have faith. That's gonna change, starting now." They hugged, and Jordan finally got to touch those wings. He'd never be the same.

Giving up, they all squeezed into a huddle for the last time. This meant no more shows, no more adventures for the five of them together; it meant having to keep secrets for the rest of their lives. The guys weren't even sure they could tell their wives. Seeing the happy couple, they knew it was a sacrifice worth making - but that didn't mean it would be easy.

"Donnie, we really need to - "

"I know. There's just one more thing I have to do."

They all wondered what that could be, watching as Donnie walked to his own freshly-sealed grave. He knelt down, and that weird electricity feeling intensified, making the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on end.

Donnie was speaking softly in a language that they'd heard before, but couldn't understand at all. He was saying a prayer - for himself and the life that lie buried there; for the life he was about to embark upon; and for all the loved ones and grieving fans he'd leave behind. He was glowing as it finished, but as he rested a hand upon the headstone, the glow faded. Donnie had made his peace with what he'd been through, and it was time to move on.

"I'm ready." 

Jordan leant Donnie his jacket, Joey, a hat, and the five of them walked out of the cemetery together, thankful that they'd never have a reason to visit the place ever again. 

Sundown had never seemed so far away.


	11. Logistics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mixed emotions, culminating in comfort/it'saboutdamntime/Icamebackfromthedeadforyou sex

Jon's wanderlust had wandered off forever - or at the very least, it had taken a vacation. He had never been so happy to stay indoors in his life.

Donnie wanted to find some semblance of normal: having a cup of coffee, eating, finding ways to sit comfortably with his new appendages.. Google searches on angel lore were all over the place, literally, with so many conflicting theories that he had to stop reading before he gave himself a headache. "Where's a real-life Giles from Buffy when you need him?," he quipped, and Jon made a mental note to Google 'Giles from Buffy' later so he'd know what Donnie was talking about.

Jon couldn't take his eyes off Donnie. He wanted to be close to him, but he didn't want Donnie to feel rushed. Dying and coming back had exhausted him, so when Jon noticed Donnie getting sleepy, he suggested a nap. To his relief, Donnie didn't object to Jon snuggling in with him, though the wings' unpredictable movements prompted Jon to volunteer to be 'the little spoon.'

Feeling Donnie's arm draped over him, his warm, even breaths on the nape of Jon's neck, was heaven. He wanted to stay awake, but the last few days had taken a toll on him, too, and his eyes closed of their own volition. When he opened them, the dying rays of the sun were splayed across the water. As Jon stirred, Donnie awoke.

"Whatsa matter?," he asked, forgetting everything for that split-second between sleep and wake, dream and reality. He had relived his fall in his dream, only this time, instead of hitting the ground, he had opened his wings and coasted gently to a safe landing.

"It's sunset." At those words, Donnie remembered, and they scrambled out of bed, grabbing a blanket to throw over both of them as they stood on the balcony and watched the sun set.

"What if.."

"It won't matter to me, Donnie. Really. Wings, horns, scales - I don't care."

Donnie frowned. "And what if I want to stay this way, Jon? I do. I think. It's .. different. I feel like I have a purpose now, like I'm special."

Jon looked at him. "You always were. Always." A hand squeezed his as they stood, ready to face whatever happened next. 

"It's hard to explain, Jon. I can feel things, hear things, see things I couldn't before. Is it wrong to want to hold on to that?"

Jon couldn't say he understood, but he could be supportive, even in his lack of being able to relate. "It's not wrong."

The sun dipped ever lower, and they watched, silent sentries of hope, their hands linking the heavenly and the human. 

"Jon? I love you." What if sunset was like sunrise for vampires? What if he disappeared?

"I love you too, Donnie." Suddenly Jon felt guilty for not putting moves on the guy hours ago. Then again, he felt guilty for thinking about sex when there was so much more at stake.

The light was barely a glimmer now, the sky having cycled through pinks, oranges and purples, now being overtaken by the deep, inky blue-black of night.

"Donnie."

"Take off the blanket, Jon."

They were so high up, it was unlikely that anyone would see them, but Jon still felt a pang of fear as he tugged the blanket from his and Donnie's shoulders. The wings were there, and with the weight removed, they stretched to full mast, straight upward toward emerging stars.

"Donnie, they're still here." Jon felt stupid for saying it; Donnie could feel them, couldn't he?

"So this is me." He gestured down at his still-shirtless form (they were going to have to find new ways to dress him now - not that Jon minded the shirtless look). 

"Yeah. This is you." Jon took a step closer, Donnie willing the wings to fold and become invisible to anyone else. "And you're fucking beautiful."

Donnie, pretending to be stern. "Did you just cuss at an angel?"

"What if I did?"

Donnie couldn't maintain the pretense of divine disciplinarian, his mind a blank. "I'm sorry it took me dying to wake me up to this. To us."

Jon rested his forehead on Donnie's. "Doesn't matter now. The past is dead and buried. Let's start over."

The night was young, and they were rested; it was time.

\-----------------------------------

Elsewhere....

"I don't know what this means for the future, Cas. It's after sunset, and you're still.."

"It means, Dean, that your prayers have been answered; you have your angel back, just like before."

"'Just' like before?"

"Well, not quite. The new, improved angel-Cas isn't going to make the same mistake of waiting."

Dean played dumb. "Waiting for..?"

"For this," came the answer against his lips, the two of them falling in all the right ways.

\--------------------------------------

"Jon, I don't know what to.. I've messed around with guys before, but I never finished what I started."

Jon nodded, said he'd go slow, and told Donnie to go start the shower. 

"Where are YOU going?" Donnie, pouting, was unbearably sexy.

"I'll be in in a minute. I gotta do something first."

With a puzzled but resigned look, Donnie obeyed. Jon heard him turn on the water, and he busied himself getting things ready: lube, towels, and various other goodies. When he was satisfied that all was in order, Jon grabbed an extra bath towel and made his way to the master bathroom.

Donnie was still in his clothes, one hand under the water, checking the temp. Jon was glad; stripping Donnie was going to add to the experience. Sure, he'd glimpsed him in the buff here and there over the years, but everything was different now. This time, he wouldn't have to feel ashamed; this time, his appraisal would be slow, deliberate, and very welcome.

"It's hot enough," Donnie said softly. Jon took his cue, pulling his lover in for a kiss that curled their toes and made him feel like he was floating. Perhaps he was; Donnie hadn't tested out his ability to fly yet. Falling back to earth from heaven, with help, didn't count.

"Okay. Let's get these out of the way.." Jon hadn't paid much attention to what Donnie had been wearing, but in that moment, he realized the clothes were simply new copies of the ones Donnie had on when he died. Jon felt the symbolism in that act, stripping away the last reminders of the tragedy. As each new expanse of skin was revealed, they both felt a profound sense of relief: Donnie's body was truly perfect, with no marks or scars to remind either of them of what he had suffered. The pants slid down in a reverent hush, followed by the underwear. Donnie sat on the edge of the tub to remove his socks, and Jon idly thought that he'd gladly let Donnie go barefoot forever; even his feet were perfect, and he so rarely let anyone see them. As each new part was exposed, Jon silently prayed and affirmed: 'Mine.'

Donnie undressed Jon with shaking hands. Jon never was a fan of having others dress him, while Donnie's job demanded that he get used to it. Still, he could learn to like this, Donnie fumbling with the buttons, tugging the sleep-rumpled shirt out from its position tucked into his belt, the methodical unbuckling, the zip of the belt flying through the loops. That sound was a trigger for Jon, the sign that good things were about to happen, and the heat of all his previous encounters with that sound flooded his body. Nevertheless, he knew that those lovers were rehearsals, and this - this was the show.

Jon felt Donnie's thumbs hook into the waistband of his boxers, easing them down past his hips, peeling them away from the body he'd waited so long to look upon. "You're beautiful naked." Jon leaned into the compliment, kicking the boxers free of his left foot and into the corner.

"So are you." Jon allowed himself to reach behind, to feel the wings he could not see.

"Will you let me see them?" Jon didn't want anything hidden, anything off-limits between them. Donnie relaxed his mind, removing the barrier as they stepped over the side of the tub and under the spray. 

Jon sighed as he saw the wings getting wet, glistening as the water beaded upon them before streaming down in rivulets to the tub floor. They felt different now, each fiber of them more pronounced, less.. fluffy, but still sensual. Donnie seemed to be adapting to having them handled; in fact, he seemed to be developing a fondness for it, as indicated by his suddenly swooping Jon into his arms and kissing him deeply. 

"What does it feel like? When I touch them, I mean," Jon asked when the kiss broke. 

"It doesn't feel like anything else. I have nothing to compare it to."

Jon absorbed that. "But it feels good. I'm not hurting you?" His fingers were caressing the feathers, feeling the pockets of air formed between the layers, the ones designed to retain warmth and decrease wind resistance. Donnie practically purred.

"Mmm. You're not hurting me. I like it when you touch me there." In the shower, there was nowhere to hide, nothing to prevent Jon from seeing the evidence that Donnie was, indeed, enjoying his touch.

Tentatively, Jon caressed the wings with his palms. They felt alive, which, of course, they were, shivering under his hands. When he knelt down, tracing the lengths of them to the very tips, Donnie moaned. Jon looked up at him from that position in adoration. Donnie's navel was a goblet of spiced wine, enticing him, and he couldn't resist dipping his tongue there for a taste. Donnie leaned back against the wall of the shower, dizzy, his wings cushioning his body as he made contact with the tile. His hands instinctively flew to the sides of Jon's head, tousling his hair as Jon's mouth blazed a trail across his taut abdomen.

Jon took one of Donnie's hands by the wrist, pulling it to his mouth and placing kisses on the sensitive underside. This progressed to kissing his palm, and then Jon was overcome with the need to have something in his mouth. As he licked and sucked Donnie's fingers one by one, the younger man whispered his name. The other hand received equal treatment, but this time, Jon worked his way up Donnie's arm, kissing the forearm, planting his lips in the crook of Donnie's elbow, up his biceps, across his shoulder.. This was so out of the ordinary for Donnie, it kept him off-balance, though not in a bad way.

When Jon reached his neck, Donnie placed a hand on the small of Jon's back. It was no secret how sensitive this spot was for him, and Jon made sure to lave it thoroughly, interspersing with gentle nips. His ear was next, and Donnie felt ready to fall apart, Jon having to pin him bodily against the wall to keep him from thrashing. Jon whispered in his ear, nonsense words, but it was the tone, the context and the proximity which mattered.

Donnie needed to taste that mouth, right that instant. He caressed Jon's cheek, tilting his head up toward his lips. As they met, Jon moaned, a low, plaintive sound that set off a rumbling somewhere deep inside Donnie's solar plexus. Jon felt sparks at every point where their bodies met, and when he opened his eyes, he SAW them. "Grace," Donnie guessed, taking possession of his lover's lips once more. That explanation was good enough for Jon; whatever it was, it didn't hurt - it felt amazing. 

Donnie wondered if he could manipulate the sparks, and no sooner had the thought flitted through his mind, than Jon's body stiffened, a stifled cry bubbling up against Donnie's mouth. He'd felt power go out of him, and Jon had received it, feeling the jolt trip along his tongue and down his throat, pooling in his belly. "Wow," the older man said, going in for another kiss. Donnie repeated the intent, with identical results: Jon absorbed the energy with pleasure.

He placed his hand on Jon's back, right at the base of the spine. The jolt traveled upward, zinging through Jon's upper body and bathing him in its heat all the way to the top of his head. A second jolt traveled downward, shooting through his most intimate parts, on down through his thighs, legs and feet before fizzling out inside his toes. "Fuck, you're killin' me," he breathed, but did not ask Donnie to stop.

The wings enveloped Jon's soaked form, pulling the two of them as close as they could get without one being inside of the other. Donnie slid a hand down between them, flesh pressed against flesh, hip digging into hip, and made the slightest nod of intent. Energy buzzed along Jon's cock, cradled loosely in Donnie's grip, and Jon almost came then and there.

"Donnie.. I need to.." Jon wriggled away until there was a little bit of room between them, then dropped to his knees once more. Jon took Donnie with both hands, pulling his hard-on away from its twelve o'clock position against his belly, brushing the tip along his lips. Donnie groaned, his hips tilting forward, wanting more, but Jon was in no rush. He may not have supernatural zaps with which to tease his lover, but he had a trick or two of his own, and Donnie wasn't about to get off that easily. 

"Jon. Please.." Donnie's voice breaking was a beautiful sound, and Jon wanted more. His tongue darted out, taking a few exploratory swipes along the crown, running to the ridge underneath, making Donnie twitch. He knew how that felt, knew what his lover wanted, but he also knew that the anticipation would make release all the sweeter.

"I need to learn what you like. When I do something, assign it a number on a scale of one to ten. One means you don't like it; ten means it's the best and you don't want me to stop. The numbers between will tell me how intense something is." With that, he drew Donnie into his mouth, and Donnie's mind tried to focus on what he'd been told to do. As Jon rubbed the tip of his cock against the roof of his mouth, Donnie's lips formed the number "Six." Jon tried out long, slow licks up and down the shaft, prompting Donnie to assign it a four. Jon pursed his lips, pushing Donnie between the tight suction and out again, repeating the move as Donnie gave it a seven. Each push in felt like a thrust, Jon's mouth the hot, wet cunt taking him in, and it was soon ratcheted up to an eight.

Jon had one more teasing trick to perform before they moved things to the bedroom.

Donnie swore as Jon swallowed him at a gulp, his length disappearing into his lover's throat. "Fuck, Jon. Ten." Jon steadied his breathing, eyes watering as his spasming throat muscles constricted Donnie's cock. "Ten.. fuck.. if you move much more, I'm gonna.." Jon withdrew slowly, Donnie trading the heat of the mouth for the waning heat of the shower. 

"It's time for bed, Donnie," Jon said, stretching his jaw, adjusting to the lack of fullness. Donnie knew what that meant, and he was nervous, the butterflies erupting inside of him as Jon shut off the water. The towel wasn't big enough to cover his body and his wings, but the feathers dried faster than he'd expected, making it moot. Jon's towel was slung low around his hips, and Donnie's hands itched to tug it free, to let it fall to the floor as he followed that man - HIS man - to the bedroom. Tomorrow would bring questions, planning the logistics for the rest of their lives; tonight was all about feeling, not thinking. The only problem here was figuring out the logistics of lovemaking between two men, and that was a nice problem to have.

Jon seemed to have things pretty well worked out in his own mind, as Donnie soon learned when those warm, damp, eager hands guided him to the bed ass-first. Jon's towel became old news, dropping to the hardwood floor with a subdued thud, and Donnie's joined it, their still-steaming bodies needing to be touching without anything hindering them. As Jon kissed across that solid chest, capturing one sensitive bud between his teeth, Donnie let out a hiss.

It took everything in Jon not to roll Donnie over then and there, to dip into that sweet ass without mercy. Donnie's breathing was heavier, and Jon knew it was impossible, but he swore he could hear the man's heartbeat - even FEEL it, like it was in the room, in the air. He hadn't put on any music, but decided this was better, nothing but the sounds of the two of them coming together at last, at last.

Donnie's hands flew up toward the headboard as Jon's mouth worked his other nipple, one of them bumping the bedside table en route, and Jon remembered the lube sitting there. "Pass me that bottle, Donnie." Donnie turned his head, straining to see the label, and Jon tweaked a nipple in warning. "Just give it here. Don't think; just do it."

Donnie complied, wondering if his heartbeat was as loud to Jon as it was to him. The lube was cold on Jon's fingers, staining the sheet - but fuck it, it would be worth it. He wasn't even going to bother to put a towel under them; he was beyond such OCD annoyances. When he felt his hand was slick enough, he cautioned Donnie to part his legs and brace himself, and then the lube poured *there*, dribbling down onto the bed. Donnie howled, but the liquid soon warmed to his body's temperature, and he felt the tingle kick in.

"Jon.. Jon, wait.."

Jon groaned, but stopped, his hand resting on Donnie's inner thigh, so close to where he wanted it to be. "What is it, Donnie?"

"Isn't this, uh, the wrong position?"

Jon looked at him for a long moment. "There's more than one, Donnie. Men can mix it up more than you know." Then, after a beat, "Are you saying you'd prefer to take it from behind?"

Jon's blunt turn of phrase had Donnie's mind conjuring up images of just that, and it made him even harder. "I, I don't know what I want."

"I thought of doing it this way so I could kiss you." Donnie was touched by that.

"Oh." Donnie's hand covered Jon's, urging him onward, dipping lower, and Jon took the hint. Donnie's honeypot was tight, but Jon was determined, brushing against it with slickened fingers, and soon the younger man was backing onto the fingers, wanting to be filled.

"I'm ready." Jon believed him, testing him out with one, soon joined by a second. Donnie was taking it well, but Jon waited a few minutes to add a third, wanting to be sure.

"Fuck! So good.." That answered that.

When they'd worked their way up to four fingers, Donnie was desperate, panting. His cock was swollen to the point of pain, and Jon decided a mercy killing was in order.

Donnie let out a whine as Jon withdrew his fingers, leaving Donnie feeling empty. "Open for me, love," Jon said, slathering himself with lube and nudging the entrance. Donnie took a deep breath, willing his body to cooperate, and, little by little, it did. When Jon was all the way in, Donnie opened his eyes.

"It's in, sweetie. You're taking all of me," Jon assured him, leaning just far enough for Donnie to meet him for a kiss. 

Donnie moved his hips, signaling his want, and Jon took the hint, beginning with slow strokes, working his way up to harder. He knew Donnie would be sore later, no matter how gentle he was, but he didn't want him to be too sore to enjoy another round. Or two. Or, you know, as many as they could manage.

The slow-and-gentle ride was making them both crazy, but Jon had to let Donnie set the pace; only he knew what his own body could handle. When Donnie began pushing down on it, whimpering, Jon figured he was ready for more, and he went harder, pausing between strokes to give Donnie a chance to protest. Jon was getting lost in the timeless rhythm when he felt a new sensation, causing him to open his eyes: Donnie's wings had unfurled, covering Jon's back, fairly smacking against his ass. 'Spanked By An Angel'? Sounded like a blasphemous porno, but it was hard to moralize the feeling when it was so fucking good. 

Donnie's body was drawing him in deeper, tightening around him, and Jon knew he was going to need release, soon. "I want you to stroke yourself, Donnie. Do it the way you do it when you're alone, when you're thinking of me.." Donnie made a pitiful sound deep in his throat, pleasurably ashamed that Jon knew or had guessed his secret fantasies, his hand moving from Jon's shoulder to wrap around his cock.

"That's right.. like that.. yeah.." Jon's sweet entreaties pushed Donnie closer to the edge, and he gripped himself tighter. Jon was close, and said so. 

"Don't stop. I want you to.. I want you to cum. Inside me."

That was all the permission Jon needed, but - "I want you to cum with me."

Donnie bit his lip, stroking faster, then - "Now, Jon. Right now.."

Jon let go, aware of Donnie calling his name as hot spray splashed against his chest and belly. He'd lost control of the power of his thrusts, and when they were able to open their eyes, the air swirled with dislodged, drifting feathers. 

"You okay?" Jon was trying to remember how to speak; the heartbeat sound was a decrescendo now, their bodies beginning to relax. He did not move, did not try to pull out yet.

"Yeah. Are you?" The wings rippled against Jon's skin, caressing him, and he felt another aftershock course through his body. 

"I'm.. fantastic." It was true, and yet nowhere near adequate.

As Jon's cock softened, he eased himself from between his lover's cheeks. There was no unpleasantness to be dealt with, but Jon offered him a clean-up towel, just in case he felt self-conscious.

Facing one another side by side, Donnie let his wings cover both of them. "That was beautiful." Jon didn't have the words to respond, so he kissed him.

"What happens now? Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day..?," Donnie wondered aloud. 

Jon didn't want to think about it, but he knew they had to. "I know we could charter a plane, bypassing the need for a passport - but then what about when we land? You'll need i.d, at least once."

"I can't live in hiding, stuck inside of a house all the time - not even a big, Jon-Knight-constructed house."

Jon's heart sank.

"Didn't you say a while back that .. someone wanted you to buy an island?"

Donnie sat up a little. "Well, yeah, but, dead men don't buy real estate, Jon."

Jon's gears were turning. "Had you made an offer?"

Donnie looked sheepish. "I didn't live long enough for that."

"So, if your estate made an offer, I could throw in my own money, and.."

"I can't let you do that."

Jon needed to call the other guys. "What if the five of us all go in on it together? All of us, on an island; they could bring the kids, and - "

Donnie took up the thread "we'd always be together.. and the world wouldn't know."

Could he ask them to do that - to live a lie? Not a lie, so much as a secret, but, to leave it all behind like that?

"It wouldn't hurt to ask." Jon had hope again, that dangerous drug; it was taking over, body and soul.

"You're right. It wouldn't hurt to ask."

It seemed like a perfect solution, but Donnie, even after all he'd been through, had his doubts.

"Have a little faith, Donnie. Miracles DO happen. Prayers can be answered, and we're living proof."

His lover had him there.

"I have a few prayers of my own I'd like to make, Donnie, if you're interested. A few things I need."

He definitely had Donnie's attention. "Yeah? You don't think this is kinda, well, twisted?" He said it with a smile.

"That Dean fellow and his angel didn't seem to have an issue with it. You came back from the dead, Donnie; you've seen HEAVEN. I wouldn't worry too much about 'twisted.' Clearly someone up there likes you."

"Likes US."

"Exactly."

Hours later, sweaty and spent, Jon fell asleep after the best night of his life, safe in the arms - and wings - of an angel.


End file.
